Robert and Francis Fullerton Museum

 

The world of ancient Egypt never really interested me while growing up. I was more interested in American history, since that was where I lived and it was a lot cheaper to travel to Topeka, Kansas than to Cairo, Egypt.

“That’ll be forty bucks for the Greyhound,” a ticket person would state. “Or five gazillion dollars to fly across the world to a land of the never-ending desert.”

I already lived in a desert, so I chose the bus to Topeka.

It was not until I viewed a documentary about Egypt that my attention turned around in considering the ancient Egyptians as some of the most advanced folks that have ever populated this earth.

The year I watched the documentary is not important, plus it ages me, but I will never forget the impact it had on me from that point on.

Professor Steven Martin stood on a stage and sang a song about the ancient Pharaoh Tutankhamun – the boy king. Tutankhamun died at the age of 18 years old and his tomb in the Valley of the Kings went undiscovered for over 3,000 years. The treasure-laden tomb was located in 1922 by Howard Carter, an esteemed and wily archaeologist. 

One poignant moment in Professor Martin’s televised lecture was when he sang, ‘How’d you get so funky – did you do the monkey?’

That had a major impact on me with regard to ancient Egypt.

“There’s an Egyptian exhibit at the Robert and Francis Fullerton Art Museum at Cal State, do you want to go?” I asked Laureen.

This Cal State was the California State University of San Bernardino – in case anyone was confused since there are 23 such campuses spread up and down the state of California.

“What sort of exhibit?”

“I guess they have a bunch of stuff dating back a longtime ago in Egypt,” I replied. “A lot about the Egyptian afterlife.”

“You’re not going to dance, are you?”

I thought of Professor Martin, and hoped he would not be disappointed. “No.”

The ancient Egyptians, from my research put a lot of thought into what happened when they died.

Laureen Beyer studying a cartouche

The ‘afterlife’ was really a part of their ‘present life’ since so much thought was put into when they would pass from this realm and into the next.

According to something I read in some Australian archeology magazine: ‘The ancient Egyptians believed that when they died, their spiritual body would continue to exist in an afterlife very similar to their living world. However, entry into this afterlife was not guaranteed. The dead had to negotiate a dangerous underworld journey and face the final judgment before they were granted access.’

That sounded rather ominous to me.

“Yeah, it’s just like your current life, but when you die you gotta travel though all kinds of nasty things with big teeth trying to eat you or getting squirted with a green Jell-O like substance.”

The British Museum had an exhibit referred to as, ‘Ancient Egypt: Secrets of the Afterlife’.

Which really is not much of a secret since it stated that ‘the exhibit would cover everything from the process of mummification and ancient canopic jars used to store the different organs of the body, to mummy masks created only for the wealthiest, which helped a person’s soul find their way back to their body in the afterlife.’

In all transparency, Laureen and I have visited the British Museum, the Louvre, the Museo Egizio, and other places that house ancient Egyptian artifacts. It was all very interesting, but my main point in visiting these museums was to have my photograph taken next to an embalmed Egyptian, so I could ask, “Are you, my mummy?”

For the sci-fi nerds like my wife, that reference was from an episode of ‘Doctor Who.’

The Robert and Francis Fullerton Art Museum is located in the northeast section of the University of California, San Bernardino. A short walk from the parking lot to the west, and if you get there at the right time and correct day, you won’t have to pay for parking.

There is nothing special to the building, a large windowed cement block structure but what it lacks on the exterior is made up for in the interior.

This whole Art Museum is a treasure trove of not only the ancient Egyptian thingies we went to look at but there are rooms full of modern art work, some from the very students who attend the university currently.

There were paintings of this and that; a couple of metal horns facing each other and giggling, a pair of sunglasses on a red background, a blank canvass with a red a tie, a green light bulb attached to a board, a guy with no head and so much more. 

It was enthralling and quite the experience.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Art,” Laureen replied.

And I thought Picasso was hard to understand.

The Egyptian exhibit came into view, and what a view.

Glass case after glass case holding objects that were lost for eons, and here they were now for everyone to see.

Well, for everyone to see if that meant the Inland Empire.

Getting a person ready for burial in ancient Egypt was not for the timid. Usually, the whole mummification process took 70 days to complete and was reserved for the rich. After the person died, they would receive all kinds of attention, like having their innards taken out and stored in ‘canopic’ jars, which would be placed near their sarcophagus.

I did learn something that was really cool. A video at the museum explained which parts of the innards were reserved for the canopic jars after death.

It was not a hit and miss slitting and sliding out of organs and tossing here and there. Nope, there was a method to this measure.

The video referred to it as ‘SILL’, Spleen, Intestines, Lung, Liver. These were the organs the ancient Egyptians carefully removed from the deceased and placed gently into the ceramic canopic jars. 

Brains were tossed to the wayside, since the early Egyptian doctors had no idea what the brain was utilized for.

Sounds like some of our politicians, but I digress.

The heart, it was left in the body since the Egyptians believed this was where wisdom and love emanated from.

‘My heart belongs to you, but please leave it within me since without it I will be an unfeeling doddering and drooling old ghost in the afterlife.’

That was supposedly carved into a cartouche on a pharaoh’s cartouche around 1,300 BC.

We wandered the rooms full of ancient treasures.

There were cartouches, sarcophagus lids, jars full of ancient food items, burial items from small buttons to sew on the outer clothing of the deceased to large beautifully hammered metal chest plates.

Items to adorn a tomb or mummy

Being in this room, with pieces found in ancient tombs was really a sobering experience for both Laureen and me. 

Here were items that had once adorned folks that had died eons ago, and now were we walking from glass case to glass case in wonder at the unbelievable craftsmanship that took place in creating these pieces. 

Items found in various burial sites

A pair of 3,000-year-old playing dice made of wood stared up at us. It was as if a dealer in Las Vegas could use those very dice today, since the numbers were so distinct. What appeared to be a pawn from a modern chess piece sat beside them. I could imagine losing to Laureen at that moment utilizing that piece in my demise.

Rolling the dice

One item I found fascinating was a severed hand of a mummy. I am sure the mummy, if it were around and could speak, would counter my fascination.

“That’s my hand, and you have no business having it in a museum without the rest of me. All I want is my hand to make a handstand, and wouldn’t that be grand?”

Even the rings that bejeweled the severed hand are on display, on the hand itself.

Mummified hand with rings

Laureen bypassed that exhibit.

But one she did not bypass was the one of ancient Egyptian jewelry. Two glass cases revealing marvelous examples of delicately stringed jewelry for the neck and the wrists – along with a few rings.

Some nice jewlery

“You know, Mother’s Day is coming soon,” she said.

There was a large cartouche, hope I have that right, showing a parade of Kings walking into the afterlife. Each pharaoh looked pretty happy, or pretended to be, walking behind each other into the uncertainty of the life after death.

John Beyer pondering the line of Pharaohs

I pondered that a moment or two. 

The entire museum is worth a visit if a person is into ancient Egyptian artifacts. But, who is not with such hits as Indiana Jones, the Mummy, or John’s Hesitancy for Marching into the Afterlife.

This is a place to explore – and don’t forget to dress the part, it will do the soul a lot of good.

 

St. Patrick's Day

Today, we want to celebrate St. Patrick's Day - a holiday that's near and dear to our hearts, as we both have Irish heritage.

Welcome to Dublin, Ireland

St. Patrick's Day is a time to celebrate all things Irish, from traditional foods like corned beef and cabbage to festive decorations in shades of green and gold. But for us, it's also a time to reflect on the rich history and culture of Ireland - and to explore the country itself.

Laureen and John onboard and on the North Sea - exploring

One of the highlights of our travels in Ireland was visiting the ancient ruins of the Rock of Cashel - a sprawling complex of stone buildings perched on a hilltop in County Tipperary. As we wandered through the ruins, we were struck by the sheer scale of the structures and the intricacy of the carvings and designs that adorned them.

Laureen in front of an ancient metal gate

But it wasn't just the buildings themselves that captivated us - it was the stories behind them. From the legends of Irish kings and queens to the struggles of the Irish people under British rule, every stone at the Rock of Cashel seemed to hold a tale waiting to be told.

And of course, no discussion of Ireland would be complete without mentioning the country's literary heritage. From James Joyce to W.B. Yeats, Ireland has produced some of the greatest writers in the English language - and exploring their works is a journey in itself.

A great pub to sit and discuss the Literary Giants of Ireland

So as we celebrate St. Patrick's Day this year, we're reminded of the rich history and culture of Ireland - and of the incredible adventures we've had exploring the country. Whether you're Irish or not, we hope this holiday inspires you to learn more about the Emerald Isle and all it has to offer. 

John exploring one of the many ancient sites visited in Ireland

The Bradford House

 It was one of those lazy fall days when I found myself in the city of Placentia with not much to do.

Some days are just like that. Cruising down this avenue or that avenue, sort of randomly driving here and there. I had to be somewhere but as usual, I was hours early and had time to kill. So, there I was, randomly driving around.

Not like how millennials use the term ‘random.’

“It’s so like, random,” one millennial will say to another.

“What’s so random?” another millennial would respond.

“The sun, its so random how it rises every day and sets every evening.”

That may a bit of a stretch – perhaps but truly random things do happen daily, if not more often.

So, I’m cruising near Palm Circle in Placentia when I randomly spy a beautiful turn-of-the-century styled home. Not the Twenty-First Century, but the Twentieth Century.

“I must stop and take a gander,” I said to myself. 

In all transparency, I do sometimes talk to myself about this or that, but I never answer. That could be considered a bit off or even crazy.

“We will, we will,” I heard my inner voice responding to me.

Turns out that I had discovered The Bradford House in the City of Placentia, which is located about 75 miles southwest of Victorville, or 3,000 miles west of Shapleigh, Maine where the owner of this stunning home had been born on August 8th, 1860.

The Bradford House

Albert Sumner Bradford, otherwise known as the ‘Father of Placentia,’ grew up on a farm but due to some health issues including asthma, he missed a lot of school and at the age of twelve, he ran away from home.

He had an independent nature and wanted to prove to the world that even at that tender age he could make a success of himself.

Laureen and I had a hard enough time just getting our girls to make their beds each morning let alone having them prove to the world they would take it by storm.

“I successfully made my bed this morning,” Erica would state before leaving for school.

Laureen would only nod. “It’s a start.”

An interesting sidenote on Bradford. His father was William Bradford, a native of England, who was also a descendant of another William Bradford, the governor of the Plymouth Colony from 1621 until 1632. 

And Bradford’s mother came from a very patriotic and loyal Revolutionary family.

A lot of historical branches on that Bradford tree.

Anyway, Bradford ended up in Boston working in the agricultural field and learned how things grew. He learned about horticulture - no idea, hotbed culture - no idea, and vegetable gardening – that I know since I do it each year and end up feeding feral rabbits and squirrels for an entire growing season.

That is what those agricultural type folks, like Bradford, do successfully.

In 1887, Bradford left the east coast and headed west to truly seek his fame and fortune.

And he did, in the city of Santa Ana which at the time was in Los Angeles County. 

The rumor has it that the folks in Santa Ana and the surrounding towns did not like being in Los Angeles County and wanted to form their own county.

“If Los Angeles can be a county, why can’t we?” A man in a top hat yelled at a meeting of other like-minded people.

“Humph, humph,” was the reply from all gathered.

In 1889, he was part of a group of citizens who helped establish Orange County.

Most people at the time grew grapes or raised hogs in the area at the time.

Why Orange County then?

I suppose, when the locals thought about it, Hog County did not sound quite right.

“I reside in Hog County,” a rather oversized person may have stated.

“Yes, we can see that,” may have come the reply.

Could have been worse.

“I’sss lives in grap, no grain, no Grape County, I thinks,” a rather inebriated person may have stated.

“Yes, we can see that,” may have come the reply.

So, Orange County it was.

Soon, people moved into the area and started planting all sorts of citrus trees. It turned out that the orange trees they planted, over a million by 1890, gave the state of California its second gold rush.

Everyone loved oranges and with refrigerated railcars reaching nearly every section of the nation, the citrus industry blossomed.

Bradford knew this is where his family’s fortune would be made and purchased the Tesoro Ranch on Palm Avenue, in the Placentia District. As profits rose, he continued buying up more lands to grow his Valencia and navel oranges to sell at markets across the country.

With his fortunes growing, he built the beautiful home at Palm Circle in 1902.

Another view of the Bradford House

I was surprised that the house, which is now a museum decorated as it was when the Bradford family resided there in the early 1900’s was short on visitors.

Such a gorgeous abode once owned by the man who founded the city of Placentia should have a waiting line of looky-loos.

Wandering about the property, I noticed tours had to be arranged by appointment.

Since this was a random discovery on my part, this Bradford House, (random being used correctly), I knew there would be no tour for me this day.

But, as luck would have it, a young woman by the name of Nancy exited the house by a side door.

“Howdy,” I said. I always say ‘Howdy.’

She looked at me and then clasped her purse a bit more closely.

“I’m a travel writer and just love the history of this place,” I said, while raising my arms to show I was not carrying anything lethal.

The ice was broken.

“Usually you need to have a reservation for a tour,” Nancy said, “But it turns out that a group of Girl Scouts are coming in an hour to visit. Would you like to wait and go with them through the house?”

No, I thought. I really did not want to tour with a group of young giggling girls. 

So, Nancy took me on a private tour of the Bradford House. 

There are public tours from 2 to 4 pm the second Sunday of each month. 

The Bradford House is a two story, 15 room mansion that is like walking back into a different era. Large colored carpets lay over highly polished wood floors, staircases that seem to have been chiseled out of solid pieces of wood by a professional sculpturer, furnishings – many that had belonged to the Bradford family, were in each room giving the place a feeling of warmth.

Beautifully carved staircase

Nancy was a fount of knowledge.

“As beautiful as this house is, Albert’s family only thought of it as a farmhouse,” she said. “In fact, they had to leave their muddy shoes at the entrance after traipsing through the groves when they came in.”

No mud in the dining room!

I nodded while following this docent about the rooms.

“I tell school children that there are eight bedrooms but only one bath. They all say yuck, but at that time, this was very special in a person’s house.”

The only bathroom, a luxury

When I had arrived, I noticed small windows at ground level. “Is there a basement here?”

“Yes, and Albert had it made special, since he moved from the east, a basement was expected,” she replied. 

She did not offer any tour of the basement. I did not pry.

Turns out, Bradford’s wife played an important role in the Placentia Women’s Club, which is still active today.

The Bradford family was crucial to the growth of the city and surrounding communities with their generosity, forward-looking attitudes, and knowing how to be at the right spot at the right time.

The city of Placentia was incorporated in 1926.

After Albert’s death, the house reverted to his son who visited rarely. He had his own successful businesses in Los Angeles, and besides, did not seem to enjoy visiting the farm in Placentia.

“His son only stayed here on weekends. His main residence was in Los Angeles but much of the furniture you see was purchased by him and shipped from Italy. He liked to travel.”

If one considered the Bradford House as simply a farm house, then I would expect they had a lot of moola-boola to travel with.

“Honey, should we spend the weekend at the farmhouse or a stay at the Gritti Palace in Venice?”

“Una domanda stupida.”

Don’t need a translator for that reply.

With the personal tour over, I thanked Nancy for her assistance and vast knowledge of the grounds.

“We love visitors,” she stated.

And this Bradford House in Placentia should be visited to understand how even twelve-year-olds from Maine can think big and prove they can make dreams come true.

Albert S. Bradford certainly did.

And look at this wonderful desk he ended up with

For more information: https://thebradfordhouse.org/